


What Change Requires (And How High A Price)

by chasingyellow



Series: Metamorphosis [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: And then Dick and Bruce talk, Bruce is trying to be a good dad, But he's do a so-so job at the moment, But it's mostly about Dick and Jason and Bruce, Comment if you want Jello to make an appearance, Dick and Bruce have a not-so-satisfying conversation, Dick and Jason talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is sort of hurt, Gen, Guys it's the fic you've been asking for, Hurt/Comfort, It's gonna be a rollercoaster, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Jason Todd is hurt, Jason needs a hug, Lazarus Pit, Pit Madness, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), We'll see what happens - Freeform, fear toxin, hurt dick, hurt jason, maybe some fluff??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 19:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30026574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingyellow/pseuds/chasingyellow
Summary: Jason Todd knew that something was wrong as soon as Goldie stepped off the windowsill.First of all, if Dick was coming in through the window, it meant that he’d just gotten off patrol and hadn’t changed into his civvies yet.And his brother didn’t do that.ORDick didn't usually stop by Jason's apartment unannounced. When he did, it was never a good thing. This time was no different. This time, Goldie wanted to change things.He wanted Jason to visit the Manor.
Series: Metamorphosis [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152125
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119





	1. Windowsills and Dreaming Wide Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! It's been a while. I've been thinking up this fic for a while and quite a few of you asked for something after this effect. This my attempt at a Dick-talks-to-Bruce-about-Jason fic plus a sprinkling of the batbros (Jason and Dick, at least) being bros, as they should. This story is in the same storyline/universe as my 'Waitin' On the World to Change' and 'Maybe the World is Changing' fics and is set after both of them. It will be multi-chapter like 'Waitin' On the World'.  
> This took a while because I was trying to figure out to right the high-emotion scenes, so let me know how you think about it and any ideas you have for it. This fic might be a little slower coming, chapter-wise, but if you're interested, I'll probably be working on some one-shots about the boys in the meantime (comment with prompts, lovelies).  
> I'm super excited to see where this goes! Love y'all and hope you enjoy!  
> -a

Jason Todd knew that something was wrong as soon as Goldie stepped off the windowsill. 

First of all, if Dick was coming in through the window, it meant that he’d  _ just  _ gotten off patrol and hadn’t changed into his civvies yet. 

And his brother didn’t do that. Dick didn’t stop by Jason’s safe house after patrol unless they’d gone on patrol together. Or unless they’d planned beforehand. Goldie had made it pretty clear—Jason wasn’t petty enough to say that the man had practically been begging him, although he definitely had—that if Jason  _ didn’t  _ trash his safe house, and disappear from off the face of the earth in an attempt to keep his privacy intact, then Dick would make sure he didn’t get any surprise visits. 

Jason didn’t think Dick could stop anyone else’s spontaneous social calls, but he thought that making him promise would at least make sure that stopping by Jason’s apartment was discouraged. 

Jason didn’t like surprises. No ex-assassins/vigilantes/Zombie-Murderers did. 

Secondly, Dick announced his presence. 

Which meant that this wasn’t some sort of covert, sneak-into-Jason’s-house-to-make-sure-that-he-had-food-in-his-fridge-and-no-heads-in-his-freezer type of visit. 

Jason had caught Dick making one of those before. 

“Goldie?” Jason called, resisting the urge to sigh. Instead, he turned down the heat on the stove and started towards the living room. “Social call at three in the morning?” 

Dick was just shutting the window behind him when Jason got to the living room. Was tugging the curtains closed and peeling the domino off his face by the time Jason repeated his greeting loud enough for the man to actually hear. 

Dick whirled around, nearly dropping the domino. 

It only took a second for the look of fear, of shock, to drop from his features. The man plastered a Grayson-caliber smile in its place, but tonight it just wasn’t enough. 

_ Thirdly,  _ Jason thought, adding to his mental list of things that were  _ off  _ about tonight,  _ that smile was  _ not  _ real.  _

“Jay,” Goldie rubbed at the spirit glue remnants stuck to the side of his face, ran his hand through his hair, struggled to keep his smile in the right place on his face. “I thought you’d be asleep.” 

Whatever humorous, snarky reply that Jason wanted to make died in his throat as he realized that he didn’t exactly have any jokes about  _ freaking nightmares about the Pit.  _ He swallowed roughly, and suddenly both brothers were faking their way through smiles and pretending like the other one wouldn’t notice. 

“I got hungry,” Jason said when the silence stretched too long. 

“Oh,” Dick went back to rubbing at the side of his temple, even though Jason was pretty sure all of the spirit gum would be gone by now. “Well...Knock, knock?” 

Jason pressed his lips tightly to suppress the hoarse chuckle that wanted to be coaxed out by the stupid look on his brother’s face. 

_ Brother.  _

That word had been coming up in his mind a lot more often—ever since the new scars in his stomach, and Kansas, and trying not to throw up in the back of Clark Kent’s pickup truck and  _ Atlantis: The New Empire _ —and a lot less sarcastically. 

Maybe that’s why Goldie liked  _ Disney  _ marathons with all the kids so much. Maybe they actually worked their magic. 

Jason didn’t like to think about it. Didn’t rely on how thinking that didn’t feel  _ wrong  _ anymore, because  _ nothing really lasts, right?  _

“Who’s there?” Jason said, dryly, half because he couldn’t help it and a half because he didn’t know what else to say.  Dick snorted at that, and Jason defended himself with “Hey, you started it,” and then that awkward air dispersed a little and Jason mentioned that he might have soup on the stove, if Dick ate that sort of thing. 

Jason held off asking—demanding— _ what’s wrong  _ right away as his brother followed him into the kitchen, and offered Dick a seat. 

His brother sat down like the place was rigged with landmines. His first thought was  _ crap.  _ And his first instinct, of course, was to be  _ pissed off  _ because Jason couldn’t deal with his injuries on his own if he wanted privacy but Dick could, apparently, because he had a savior-complex and an older-brother-sized ego. 

It was an injury. It  _ had  _ to be. Unless Dick really was still uncomfortable around him. Unless Dick really was worried that Jason was still insane, that he could snap at any moment. That the Pit could take over—

Jason shook his head roughly, ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to ground himself. 

_ Don’t think about that.  _

Jason was halfway to the stove when he decided that he wasn’t just going to ignore the problem, ‘cause what could Goldie do other than run away and be subject to Jason’s relentless badgering for the rest of existence, or be quiet and let Jason use the remainder of his dwindling first aid kit. 

“So, you gonna tell me which part of you is bleeding?” Jason said, glancing at his brother as he stalled in front of the stove. 

Dick started a little, and that just made Jason worry a little bit more. 

“Don’t think about lying, Goldie,” Jason added. 

So, of course, Dick went right ahead and lied. “What? I’m not—I’m not bleeding anywhere.” 

“ _ Right _ ,” Jason said because that was probably  _ exactly _ what he’d have said if he was bleeding somewhere. “I’m stupid, Dick,” 

“And I'm not lying.” Dick settled a little more on his seat as if to prove his point. “I’m fine,” 

“Then why are you here?” 

“Maybe I just wanted to visit my brother,” 

“ _ Bull— _ ” 

“Is that so ridiculous?” Dick cut Jason off, his voice sharp. Sharper than Jason had heard in a while. 

“Yeah, sort of.” Jason turned around fully, the back of his neck starting to grow hot. He was starting to get tired of this. Tired of his brother dancing around Jason’s issues and picking up the pieces in all the right order, and always swooping in at the right moment and standing up on his soapbox to tell Jason that he _needed_ his family and they _needed_ him when _Dick himself_ wouldn’t just let Jason slap a few bandages on what wound that he was trying—and failing—to hide. “Because you promised that you wouldn’t just barge in and here you are—”  
“I didn’t know you’d be awake.” Dick looked stricken, but Jason wasn’t stupid. The man was good at putting on the right face, whatever would get him out of having to own up the words that he preached. 

“Oh! So you thought you waltz in here while I was sleeping, deal with your crap and sneak right back out?” 

Somewhere in his brain, Jason realized that this was stupid. That it was stupid to be so frustrated about this, so cut up over the fact that Dick had simply been trying to take care of himself. 

The Golden Boy obviously wasn’t very hurt or he wouldn’t be sitting here, waiting on Jason’s half-warmed up soup. The man was stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. 

Jason  _ shouldn’t  _ care. 

It annoyed him that he  _ did.  _ He just—

“It’s fear toxin, alright?” 

“ _ What? _ ” The words shocked him out of his own thoughts. 

“I got hit with fear toxin,” Dick said, gaze breaking away from Jason’s as he dropped his eyes to study the oh-so-interesting counter in front. “It’s nothing. I just—” Dick sighed, shoulders sagging a little and Jason realized how  _ tired  _ the man looked. “I already dealt with it.” 

“You got the antidote?” Jason asked, feeling thrown off-kilter. He’d been so frustrated, bordering on seeing green and then  _ this?  _

“From B,” His brother said, running a hand through his hair again— _ shaking _ , Jason now noticed. “It’s all taken care of, I said,” His voice sounded more clipped than usual, but Jason was starting to realize that it was that tight, tired voice that Goldie always liked to hide for as long as possible. 

Jason grimaced.  _ Fear toxin?  _ Why wasn’t the idiot home sleeping? Why wasn’t he back at the Manor where he could be around people that he trusted? That was usually what helped coming off a dose of fear toxin. Anything other than  _ not _ being around your murderous, insane pseudo-sibling. “So then, you’re here because…?” 

“Just to double-check,” was the astonishingly vague answer. 

“What?” 

Dick turned to look at him again and then looked away almost as quickly. “I just needed to check,” 

“Check what?” 

Dick mumbled something and that thrill of annoyance came right back. This was stupid. 

_ Fear toxin?  _

Jason wasn’t prepared for this, wasn’t ready to deal with his brother—or anyone from his family—regularly. But coming off of a dose of fear toxin? 

He wasn’t...he couldn’t even deal with his own emotional problems. How was he supposed to help his brother, if he couldn’t even control his own murderous urges? 

“What?” 

“I was coming to check on you,” Dick said, louder—too loud. His head snapped up, eyes meeting Jason’s, flashing. “I was just going to make sure you were alright.” 

And, logically, Jason understood that. 

Because Richard Grayson had never met a person that he couldn’t adore. Never met a person worth the oxygen that they were stealing that he wouldn’t  _ freaking die for.  _

And, so yeah, maybe Jason understood that Dick would want to check on everyone. Everyone is his family. All of his friends. 

That made sense. 

That  _ made sense.  _

“Me?” spilled out of his mouth like some insecure 3rd-grade girl.  _ You gotta tell me that you don’t want me to die. Otherwise, I might not believe it.  _

Dick looked up at him—Jason was surprised that he wasn’t getting whiplash from looking back and forth so often—and there was something hurt in his eyes. He shifted on the stool, folded his hands together in his lap so tightly his knuckles bleached white. Worried his lip between his teeth. 

And  _ ohhhh, it’d been so long since Jason had had to deal with Dick on fear toxin.  _

“Er, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jason said, quickly, “Older brother and everything. Got it,” He turned back to the stove, glanced at the soup on the stove, and wondered what he was supposed to be doing about this whole mess. “You still want soup?” 

Dick didn’t answer. 

“Goldie? Soup?” 

“Umm,” 

Jason looked over his shoulder at his brother. Dick almost broke away from his gaze but forced another shaky smile. He was fidgeting now, worse than before. 

“Goldie?” 

“Um, I don’t know if I can keep it down,” 

“Oh,” Jason set the mug down. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?” 

“Sorry,” 

Jason waved a hand at him, glanced at the soup a final time, and then abandoned it. He wandered over to the counter and scooted another stool out. 

Dick flinched, hard and Jason thought  _ so that’s how it feels?  _ and then immediately felt like blowing up. 

Jason was  _ not  _ supposed to be in this position. He wasn’t good at it. He wasn’t comforting. He wasn’t helpful. He wasn’t confident and he certainly wasn’t good at talking to people about their feelings. 

Of course, he tried it anyway. 

“So,” Jason sat down on the stool, carefully. “You want to talk about it?” 

Dick raised an eyebrow at him, looking surprised for a second, “ _ You  _ want to talk about it?” 

And Jason wasn’t a liar, so, “No, but I’m not the one who got dosed with fear toxin,” 

Dick grunted at that, leaned forward, and put his chin in his fists. “It’s fine. I just wanted to check, just...hang around here for a bit.” 

And, yeah, Jason could’ve felt annoyed because this was  _ his  _ house and this was just another Bat trying to barge into his life. 

But this was  _ Dick.  _ This was his brother. 

Maybe he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the sight of his brother—all nervous and haunted and  _ shaky _ —made him a little sick. 

So he kept his butt planted on the stool and kept that nonchalant look glued on his face and pushed forward. “I’m serious, Dick.” And when his brother didn’t answer, he ordered, “Talk,” 

Jason had forgotten a lot of things, had nearly been a blank slate when he woke up in his own grave. In the past few months, he’d regained a lot of things, remembered a lot of things. One of the things that he hadn’t had to try and remember was his older brother.

The details had come slowly—the finer details of his personality, his hobbies, his past, a lot of their memories together. 

But the word  _ brother  _ had come right away. 

And he’d been annoyed, at first. He’d been frustrated, and he’d been furious. 

_ Brother _ had stuck pretty well, considering it all. 

“Talk,” 

“It was you,” 

For the third time in the last half hour, all Jason could say was “What?” 


	2. Soup and Bad Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember when we were in Kansas?”   
> “No, I forgot about the entire week I spent watching Disney movies with you,” Jason said, and the shaky smile he got in return seemed to surprise Dick himself.   
> “You didn’t even finish Atlantis,” And, Dick actually sounded sort of cut up about that.   
> Jason was not cut out for this. It was just...in Kansas, they’d argued about the family, about Bruce, about Jason’s life. They’d argued about being a family. They’d talked about caring and all of the other crap that Dick kept telling him was true when it wasn’t and he couldn’t keep trying to convince himself.
> 
> OR   
> Dick tries to have a talk with Jason and Jason tries to avoid it at all costs while also balancing his brotherly duties. He quickly realizes he hasn't practiced this particular skill in far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!!   
> So this one turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. I kept trying to split it in two, but it just wasn't working and so y'all get this long chapter. Let me know if you prefer this length as opposed to the shorter ones.   
> Soooo this chapter is a little sadder than the summary hints at so be prepared for that. Poor Jay is having a rough go.   
> Also, if anyone's found this fic but hasn't read 'Waitin' On the World to Change', it might make more sense you read that one first. This one has started to reference that one more, so be prepared (and if you just want a summary, haha, let me know ;))   
> Anyway, rant over. Hope you all enjoy! More on the way!

“What?” 

“The fear toxin,” Dick said and then flushed. “Y’know, like you see the things that you’re afraid of?” 

“I know what fear toxin is, Goldie,” 

Dick ducked his head a little, burying half his face in his hands. “I know, I know, I’m just—It was you.” 

Jason felt nervous, suddenly. Didn’t want to hear any of this, suddenly. It was too personal, too  _ emotional,  _ too raw. He didn’t want to know why Dick was scared for him, didn’t want to know that he worried about Jason enough that when he was dosed with  _ fear toxin… _

He felt the back of his neck prickle. 

_ Maybe he was thinking about this wrong.  _

And then, of course, he  _ needed  _ to know. 

Jason could almost feel himself blanch. Feel the color drain out of his face. He tried to take a steady breath, tried to think rationally. It wasn’t like Jason wasn’t aware that he’d been a murderer. He wasn’t even opposed to killing. He still did it—just only when it was necessary. He could remember what he did, when the Lazarus Pit was raging in his veins. He could remember the shots through the head, the heads in the duffle—

Jason grimaced, rubbed his knuckles against his forehead, and tried to keep his breathing under control. 

“Jason?” 

“I didn’t...It wasn’t me—” He took a breath, tried to force his voice to be steady. Tried to pretend that he didn’t care about himself showing up as a murderer in his brother’s fear toxin hallucinations. “It wasn’t Pit Madness, was it?” 

It was easier to say that sometimes. To say  _ the Lazarus Pit  _ or  _ Pit Madness  _ and pretend like he didn’t have to be angry in the first place in order for the Pit to do anything now. To say  _ Pit Madness  _ so he didn’t have to say  _ I wasn’t trying to kill you again, right? I wasn’t trying to kill Timmy, right? I wasn’t trying to ruin our family again, right?  _

That he wasn’t sure that he could force out of his mouth. 

“ _ Jay _ ,” 

Jason jerked his head up, met Dick’s gaze. He saw that familiar fear in his brother’s eyes. 

_ Was Jason really that selfish? So selfish that his brother just got dosed with  _ fear toxin  _ and Jason’s still trying to make Dick deal with his issues?  _

“Just answer the question, Goldie,” Jason said, a little too harshly. “I’m fine.” 

“Jay…” 

“I’m fine. I just need to know.” 

“It wasn’t—That’s not what happened,” 

“What happened, then?” Jason had to check his voice, had to remind himself that this wasn’t about him. This was about Dick. 

“It was…” Dick stopped, leaned back, and dropped his hands into his lap. “I talked to you—to all of you…” 

“What do you mean?” Jason said, feeling his nerves take an edge. “You talked to  _ who? _ ” 

“You,” Dick looked up again, ducked his head again. “Tim. Dami. B,” 

“You talked to us,” 

“Yeah,” Dick’s breath hiccupped a little and he looked away again. “Just it wasn’t...we weren’t really talking.” 

“What do you mean?” Jason didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. Talking to his family wasn’t that frightening unless…

“Everything that I did…” Dick sighed hoarsely, screwed his eyes shut. “You were all angry…” 

And, of course, Dick would be the one to think about this. Dick would be the one to feel guilty about something like this for ages. To see something like that when he was under the influence of fear toxin. 

“We’re not mad at you, Goldie,” Jason said, quickly. “Everything’s fine,” 

“ _ No, _ ” 

The sudden intensity of it surprised him and he snapped his mouth shut. 

“No, that wasn’t it,” Dick said. “I...You  _ told me _ and then I saw it.” 

Jason felt cold. 

Jason told him  _ what?  _

When Dick looked up again, Jason was pretty sure that he could see tears in his brother’s eyes. “I  _ saw  _ it,” 

“What did you see?” 

“I can’t...I don’t want to bring it up,” 

“From  _ me, _ ” Jason said, voice coming out sharper than he meant it to. “What did you see from me? Why did you need to come and visit here?” 

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, turned his head away, maybe so that he wouldn’t have to see Jason’s face. “I don’t…” 

“Dick, tell me,” Somewhere in Jason’s mind, he knew that he shouldn’t be pushing. Fear toxins, the fear that it brought about, wasn’t something that you should mess with. Not the sort of thing that you should push someone to explain. 

“I don’t—” Dick scrubbed his hand across his eyes and Jason almost forced himself to say nevermind. Forced himself to shut up and let Dick talk about what he needed to talk about. And then, Dick spoke up. 

“Do you remember when we were in Kansas?” 

Jason felt a spike of fear. Tried to bury it. Like he always did. “No, I forgot about the entire week I spent watching  _ Disney  _ movies with you,” Jason said, and the shaky smile he got in return seemed to surprise Dick himself. 

“You didn’t even finish  _ Atlantis _ ,” And, Dick actually sounded sort of cut up about that. 

_ Jason was  _ not  _ cut out for this.  _

“What happened?” Jason asked, finally, when it was starting to look like Dick was trying to get out of saying anything at all. His brother shifted a little and Jason met his eyes again. “What about Kansas?” 

“You remember...our argument?” 

The first words that came to his mind were  _ I do not want to talk about that.  _ But Jason couldn’t exactly say that, couldn’t exactly shut his brother up as soon as he was just about to start talking. 

Jason couldn’t just avoid talking about... _ everything.  _

He’d asked for this. 

It was just…

In Kansas, they’d argued about the family, about Bruce, about  _ Jason’s life.  _ They’d argued about being a family. They’d talked about  _ caring  _ and all of the other crap that Dick kept telling him was true when it  _ wasn’t  _ and he couldn’t keep trying to convince himself. He was—

He was being selfish. He needed to focus. 

“Yeah, I remember that,” Jason forced himself to say. “You’re not feeling bad about that, are you? We argue all the time, Goldie. It’s not something that you need to—” 

Dick cut him off. “You said Bruce tried to kill you,”

The blood drained out of his face. His heart stuttered. 

“ _ What? _ ” At this point, he was going to have to get that engraved on his second gravestone. Come to think of it, he had no idea what happened to the first one. Maybe it was still standing there, cold and alone just like…

“You said...You told me that he’d already tried,” His brother looked up at him and Jason had the distinct impression that he should  _ never  _ have told his older brother that particular story. 

Of all people. 

Of all  _ freaking  _ people. 

“Dick, I didn’t...It wasn’t—” Jason knew what he needed to say,  _ knew  _ that Dick was coming off fear toxin and that meant that they really shouldn’t have this conversation now. He knew that Dick would want to talk about it eventually, knew that he just really shouldn’t do it now because at the moment  _ neither  _ of them would be able to keep their composure. 

Jason knew that he needed to deny and to distract and get Dick to eat that soup and then crash on his couch because  _ yeah, Jason wasn’t the best person but he wasn’t going to let his brother be alone right now.  _ And what are couches for, other than to let your brothers crash on them when they’ve been hallucinating their greatest fears? 

But the words wouldn’t come to his mouth. 

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t like that, Dick,” Jason lied because he didn’t really know what it was like, didn’t really know what to think. Didn’t really know what it meant. 

It meant that Bruce didn’t  _ choose  _ him. 

That’s what it meant. 

Somewhere in his heart— _ no, maybe that was his brain _ —he knew that was what it meant. 

But that thought was always accompanied with anger or fear or hate or hopelessness or that heavyweight of everything in the world pressing, pressing,  _ pressing. _

But  _ that  _ felt like the Pit and  _ he couldn’t even trust himself anymore.  _

“Tell me the truth, Jason,” 

“Not tonight,” Jason’s voice was pleading, cracking a little before he could even check it. 

_ Selfish. Selfish. When had he not been selfish?  _

“Tonight,” Dick insisted, looking more sure of himself, more like himself than he had all morning. “Tonight, Jason. I need to know,” 

“No.You _ don’t. _ ” Jason’s on his feet, slamming away his stool, gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping tethered to sanity. “That’s what you don’t  _ get _ .” He seethed, the words burning in his mouth, weighing heavy on his tongue. 

_ He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this.  _

He needed to calm down. This was Dick and this was  _ fear toxin.  _ He couldn’t just explode for no reason. He wasn’t like that anymore. 

Except that he was— _ who was he kidding, really? Nothing had changed _ —and that there was a reason. 

“That’s what none of you can understand—it’s not your problem. You don’t  _ need  _ to know, you need to do anything,” 

“Jason, I just—” Dick was staring at him openly now, and the look in his eyes made Jason think that maybe his brother had been lying all along and the toxin  _ did  _ make him see Jason hurting him, hurting his brothers,  _ killing.  _ “ _ Jason, _ ” 

Dick always did that, just said his name like hearing it would make everything make sense again. Would make everything go back to normal. Would make everything okay. 

But that wasn’t anything. It wasn’t even an argument. 

“No, you don’t  _ get it. _ You don’t get to.” Jason snapped and now he was trembling, shaking. He wasn’t really seeing Dick, not anymore. He was seeing rain in the corner of his vision and feeling the Joker’s collar in his hand and hearing that laugh ringing in his ears and looking at his dad and knowing that he could  _ fix it.  _ Knowing that Bruce could change things, could prove that he didn’t just get the death report and hang up Jason’s old costume and then commission another for some  _ kid  _ that would have his same fate. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to barricade in his safe house every time there was a breakout at Arkham. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to hold his breath as he heard the report. 

Bruce could choose him and  _ he would know.  _ He would be sure. 

And then he remembered that blood, in his throat, in his mouth, trickling down his collar. He remembered not realizing what had happened, not understanding what had happened until his knees were buckling and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe,  _ couldn’t _ —

Jason heaved for breath, tried to choke down the sound, smoother the reaction because he couldn’t do this here. In front of his brother. In front of Dick. 

“Jason,” 

“Just drop it, Dick,” Jason bit out— _ see? He could breathe, he didn’t have a slit across his throat; he was crazy _ —trying to convince himself to drop it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dick’s face crumpled a little, and he brought his hand back up to cover it and for a painfully long moment, Jason thought he was just going to break down sitting right there at Jason’s counter. 

Jason didn’t know how Dick managed to keep it together. Didn’t know how he could stand seeing his own brother like this. Didn’t know how he didn’t scream and cry and break something because  _ Jason was insane  _ and there was nothing that he could do. 

Jason didn’t know how  _ he  _ didn’t break down. 

But he didn’t, of course. He turned and went back to the stove and served up soup for his brother, and set it in front of him, and then sat back down on his own stool stiffly. 

He pressed his lips together tightly, folded his hands together tightly as if any of it would prevent him from crumbling apart. He watched, trying not to hate himself for blowing up like that, as his brother seemed to rally himself to even pick up the soup spoon. Dick prodded the soup for a second and then sighed and ate a spoonful of it. 

“You don’t have to eat it right now,” Jason said, feeling bad immediately that the way Dick discreetly slipped a hand around his stomach. 

“Then why’d you take it off the heat?” Dick sounded faintly frustrated as he swirled around the spoon and then took another bite. 

“Well, you  _ should  _ eat something,” Jason snapped back and then regretted it immediately. Did he really rise to the bait that quickly? He wasn’t the one who had relieved all of his greatest fears an hour ago. He needed to be calm. He needed to be the one in control here. “It’s fine,” He amended, “I’ll put it in the fridge and you can eat it for breakfast.” 

“Yes,  _ dad, _ ” 

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to crash at  _ my  _ place,” Jason returned, the words just as instinctual. 

Dick froze and they both looked up, met gazes from across the room. 

_ That was too casual. Too casual.  _

They hadn’t done that...too long. Not long enough. Jason didn’t know. 

“I’m not staying the night,” Dick said, after a minute, finally sliding the bowl of soup away from himself. “I just needed to make sure you were okay.” 

Jason was shaking his head before Dick finished his sentence. “You’re not the babysitter in this scenario.” 

Dick looked up at him, raised an eyebrow. “Jason, I don’t want to—” 

“Don’t argue,” Jason stood up, snatching Dick’s bowl of soup away and heading for the fridge. “I’m too tired to deal with this crap. There’s an extra blanket in the hall closet.” 

There were alarm bells blaring in his head, Jason realized belatedly.  _ He was going to have a Bat sleep in his house. He couldn’t _ —

It was his brother. 

Nothing was going to happen. It wasn’t like Dick was going to have some fear toxin relapse and try to kill Jason in his sleep. It wasn’t like this was some sort of next level ruse to get Jason to be comfortable around him, to trust him so much that he would never suspect anything. It wasn’t like he would ever see the inside of Arkham Asylum again—

Dick was still sitting at his counter, staring at him. 

“I’m serious, Goldie. You look like crap,” 

Dick looked like he was in denial as he stood up on shaky legs, followed Jason into the living room. 

Jason’s semi-permanent safehouse wasn’t large, by any standard and it certainly wasn’t fancy. There was something comforting about it—clean, but worn. It reminded him of something other than the mess shambles of his childhood home, the filth of the streets, the too-pristine richness of the Manor. 

It was something that was Jason’s own. It didn’t remind him of anything from his past-life. Just reminded him of the first time that he’d been able to go shopping without having green overcome his vision. The first piece of furniture he’d lugged up the two flights of stairs. The day that he’d decided to start up his own little, secondhand library on the shelf above his desk in the corner of the room. Of the first time he’d sat on that sagging couch and slept for four hours straight without waking up screaming. 

Those were Jason’s things. Those were  _ his  _ memories. 

Not an abused kid’s memories. Not a grieving preteen’s. Not an insecure and troubled teenager’s. 

Jason had the sudden, overwhelming fear that  _ everything had been alright for too long.  _

Not  _ alright  _ in most people’s terms. He still had nightmares. He still crammed himself in the corner between the toilet and the bathtub and put his fingers in his ears on nights when the laughter in his head got too loud. His sleeping schedule was still crap. He still had to force himself to calm down when he saw one of the Bats. He still avoided the Manor like the plague. He still kept his distance from his family. 

But he was managing and  _ he was tired  _ but he was managing. 

He was  _ alright.  _ He’d been alright for too long. 

Something was going to break. 

Something was going to go wrong. He knew it. Somewhere in his gut, in his heart, he  _ felt  _ it. It was like an instinct, an intrinsic knowledge.  _ He knew it.  _

Something was going to break. Soon. 

“Actually,” Jason ducked into the hallway, tugged an extra blanket out of his closet. “You take the bedroom,” 

For a second, Dick looked like he was going to argue. But his shoulders were already sagging and he  _ looked  _ exhausted and it only took one glare from Jason for him to step forward and take the proffered blanket from his brother. 

“Thanks,” He said and practically hugged the blanket to his chest. 

Jason swallowed, cursed himself because  _ he hadn’t done anything he was supposed to.  _

He thought about Kansas, everything that his brother had done for him when he was too sick, too injured, too weak to do it for himself. How many times Dick had saved his life.

How when everything became too much, Dick had just held onto him. 

_ Why couldn’t Jason do that?  _

He could. Dick was standing right there. He could step forward, close the distance between them and just give his brother the  _ freaking hug that he needed.  _

He looked up, met his brother’s eyes and his mouth went dry. 

Jason’s feet were cemented to the floor, heart stuck in his throat. 

“Goodnight,” Dick murmured, finally, turning away. 

And  _ sorry, I couldn’t talk, sorry, I couldn’t do what you needed  _ was on Jason’s lips but “Sleep tight,” came out instead. 

Dick disappeared into the bedroom. 

Jason stood in his own hallway, frozen, for too long. 

Eventually, he found the couch, tugged the fleece throw off the back of it, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He let himself list to the side, felt his cheek hit the too-soft, too-bony arm of the couch. It felt too distant—the rough fabric against his cheek, the world. 

He tried to convince himself that he could fall asleep, that it would be alright. 

But first, he had to try and pretend that he’d taken the couch because it was closer to the door, because he wouldn’t be blocked in, trapped. That took ages to forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Y'all are the best.   
> Drink lots of water and stay safe!   
> -a

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and hope enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the comments and remember to drink lots of water!  
> -a


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